Penance
by Imaginari-Mari
Summary: Seven mortal, deadly sins, the depths of which are exemplified in our favorite four characters. [Possible DH spoilers, canon HG, RHr pairings, drabbly oneshots.] Ch 5 up!
1. Lust: Ginny

**Penance**

**A/N: **I saw a HGSS story entitled seven deadly sins, and I was inspired to explore the depths of those sins in our favorite HP character: Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron. (I couldn't think of any for Neville or Luna, otherwise they'd be in there too). Possibl;e DH spoilers, canon pairings (HG, RHr)

**Chapter 1: Lust//Ginny**

It was very appropriate that her hair was red. Red represented passion; it was the color of a salsa dancer's scandalously swinging skirt, and of phallic chocolate-dipped strawberries. Red was lust, and Ginny was absolutely full of it.

This was nothing compared to Harry's 'chest monsters'; this was a nearly untamable passion, a desire so bordering on nymphomania that she could barely control it. Not that it always occupied her mind; when she wasn't around Harry, she was rather sweet, with just a hint of passion lingering underneath her freckled face and braided locks.

Yes, Harry Potter. The catalyst to her lustful thoughts. Once around him, her desire flared up, the flames licking at her insides and burning her so thoroughly that even those around her could sense it. Her blazing looks in the emerald-eyed boy's direction only told part of how much she was feeling, how much she wanted every part of her to be his and his alone, and to receive all of him in return.

Dean had never experienced Ginny in her most sexually depraved state. Making out in hidden passageways behind tapestries? That never would come close to the vocal and eternally satisfying act of sex with Harry Potter. It would never compare, not in a thousand centuries.

Ginny never knew just what about Harry made her want to jump him and shag him senseless, no matter the time or place. Perhaps it was his fame, the inevitable attraction to those whose names are now legends. Maybe it was his modesty, his utter ignorance to his rough good looks and charm, and his immunity to the fame that was always threatening to inflate his ego. Maybe it was simply the fact that no matter which way she sliced it, he was just good-looking, famous or not.

Perhaps it was a combination of all those, coupled with his humor and wit, and perfect personality.

All Ginny knew was the moment she and Harry landed in her bed, smoking kisses being traced along her neck and jaw line, her hands clawing at his belt buckle and the waistband of his jeans, that she was on fire.

And she had never felt better.


	2. Envy: Ron

**Penance**

**A/N: **Heh. The file name on my computer is Penance [envy. Say it aloud. Terrible pun, neh?

**Chapter 2: Envy//Ron**

The Mirror of Erised had not merely shown Ron his deepest desires. Even then, as an ingenuous eleven year-old, he knew that not only did he want to be like his brothers; he envied them with a jealousy that consumed every part of him.

Bill was perfect, the eldest son. He had been Head Boy, but he was a heartthrob as well as an intellectual. He was athletic, adventurous- all of the qualities Ron wanted epitomized into one mortal being.

Charlie was an outdoorsman, afraid of nothing, even when a Swedish Shortsnout was chasing him around, nearly burning all of the skin off of his back. He was rustic, brave, and took pride in his independence. Ron envied his freedom.

Percy was the smartest of all of them- the pompous Head Boy who Ron had never truly liked. Before he had broken his mother's heart, Ron had envied the way his parents looked at their third eldest, and hugged him tightly when the awards and the recognition flooded in from all sides.

Fred and George were the heart and soul of the family; as the resident pranksters, they kept a smile on at least one person's face at all times. They always seemed to get all of the girls, they oozed confidence and glamour and wit. Their shop was the most popular in Diagon Alley, and was making them richer than any of the Weasley's could have dreamed. Ron was even jealous (though he was loathe to admit it) when Fred had died; George had mourned him for months, and Ron wished someone would love him as George had loved his twin, his other half.

Sometimes, Ron thought that he was most jealous of Ginny, the consummate baby of the family, his mother's only daughter. She had found love before him, had been the beauty of the family. Now, she had stolen his best friend. He envied the time she spent with Harry, the time that was taken away from him and Hermione. Yes, he had given his consent, but he wouldn't have if he had known that Harry would be spending less time with those who loved him most.

And then there was Harry. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the man who had all of the best qualities of his elder brothers rolled into a reluctantly famous package. He had always been most jealous of Harry Potter.

He had been so their first year, when Harry was picked for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He had been so in their fourth year, when a Death Eater had placed Harry's name into that goblet and Harry was entered into the Triwizard Tournament. He had thought it a ploy for Harry to gather even more fame about him; jealousy had made him irrational, had made him forget that his best friend never sought out the attention that was thrown at him every minute of every day.

He was jealous of him even when Harry needed him most. He had walked out on the two people dearest to him, utterly convinced that the girl he loved had chosen the one he envied with every fiber of his being. The fragment of Voldemort's soul had displayed his jealousy to its finest degree, how he was always second best to Harry Potter.

Now, however, Ron was jealous of no one but himself, as the woman he loved floated down the aisle, her brown hair curling gently around her shoulders. Harry stood beside him as Ron's best man, his emerald green eyes showing only joy, and not a trace of envy.


	3. Sloth: Harry

**Penance**

**A/N:** I don't like this one too much. I couldn't decide if Ron or Harry was more slothful, and then I had to redefine my definition of sloth. Urgh. Thanks so much to my reviewers, DT-19 and ManuDelft! It means a lot! 33

**Chapter 3: Sloth//Harry**

In the months after the fall of Voldemort, Harry Potter was not Harry Potter. The darkness and grief he had repressed, had staved off for so long, finally engulfed him, making him incapable on some days of even lifting his head.

He grieved properly for the first time in years, not moving, not working. It was like the summer before his sixth year, only much more exacerbated- instead of one person dead, it was dozens.

Remus was gone, the only father figure he truly had left, the last of the Marauders. Tonks was gone; the ray of sunshine she had always been passed over by a permanent cloud. Fred was gone, leaving a bereft twin and a grieving family behind. Hedwig, Mad-eye, Dobby, Colin... all lost.

Depression weighed heavily on him, making his limbs like lead and his heart even more so. He could never shake the thoughts that it had all been his fault: had he never been born, had Voldemort not targeted him, everything could have been good.

For his entire life, he had only one purpose: defeat the Dark Lord at all costs. His six years at Hogwarts had been driven with one goal; each year was spent trying to stay alive until June, when the inevitable trouble would start, and he'd thwart Death for the umpteenth time. He'd been raised to defeat Dark Lords, not to be a normal teenage boy.

Now, there was no imminent threat of death, no Voldemort to evade and eventually destroy. Only a few errant Death eaters remained, and they had been easily silenced. He was no longer the Chosen One, but the Boy Who Conquered.

But there was nothing left to conquer. The feeling of release, of normalcy, he had expected after the final battle had never come, and he was content to wait for it in his bed at 12 Grimmauld Place, wallowing in his depression and his lost sense of purpose.

His sloth had been interrupted, however, by the small intrusion of an owl bearing a letter that named him Head Boy for his seventh, NEWT year at Hogwarts. Being Quidditch captain and Head Boy would make being lazy difficult indeed.


	4. Wrath: Hermione

**Penance**

**Chapter 4: Wrath//Hermione**

_Her bushy hair crackled, as if infused with electricity._ When angered, Hermione was as unpredictable as a bolt of lightning.

Fury would travel through her veins like a current, changing her so that she couldn't recognize herself anymore. It was as if her wrath created a mask for her, a disguise, in which the rational Hermione protected herself until the psychotic one disappeared.

She always prided herself on her brains, her unerring devotion to knowledge and the logical approach to any given situation. She was even logical when furious, coming up with counter-arguments and rebuttals while her voice became more and more shrill, and her eyes and hair grew more and more wild.

She was like a volcano, slowly becoming more and more agitated and pissed off until she exploded. When she had reached her limit, she would go off on anyone and everyone, stomping into rooms and slamming doors, and leaving the people she had just blown up at bewildered and fearing for their lives.

Ron was the one who always got to her. They say that those who love you the most are the ones who can hurt you the most. In Ron's case, he knew just what to say and which buttons to push to set her on a slow boil.

He had insulted her just before the Yule ball, finally realizing that she was a girl, and then acted like a surly git the entire rest of the dance, effectively ruining her night with Viktor.

It was he who had infuriated her so much in their sixth year, going around with Lavender Brown after ignoring her for a week straight. She had been distraught, and in an act of fury had injured him with her spectacular yellow birds. Their fight had gone on for months, both making fun of the other, and leaving poor Harry smack in the middle.

And he had walked out on them. When they had needed him most, he had walked away, convincing his stupid self that she had chosen Harry! She loved Harry as a brother, but he had let his jealousy turn him into something resembling a monster. When he had returned, she had attacked him, and hadn't spoken to him for a week.

After her explosions, she would then become cold; her silent treatment and cold shoulder would leave her victims with frostbite.

Her wrath always got the better of her, and never more so than she was around her ginger-haired lover. Their fights were spectacular, and left the neighbors wondering how the hell they hadn't killed each other yet.

Of course, they'd then hear the newlyweds "making up," and they knew: Ron brought out both the worst and the best in a thoroughly vocal Hermione.


	5. Pride: Ginny

**Penance**

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay; I moved into my dorm a week ago, and it's been crazily busy. 

**Chapter 3: Pride//Ginny**

It was that Weasley pride, the blood-traitor status that kept her from cracking under the relentless taunting of Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins when she was only a first-year. It was her mortified pride that turned her red when she wrote a poem for the famous Harry Potter, comparing his gorgeous green eyes to a "fresh-pickled toad."

It was that wounded pride that let loose on Ron during her fifth year when he and Harry caught her and Dean snogging in the corridor behind the tapestry; she had been utterly embarrassed. The boy she loved had caught her with Dean's tongue tickling her tonsils, and she could not have felt worse. It was irrational, but the moment she started to get over Harry Potter, he stepped right back into her heart, looking jealous and upset for a brief second before settling behind a mask of indifference.

It was that same pride that caused her, Neville, and Luna to start up Dumbledore's Army again. If the bloody Golden Trio could flout rules and fight the Dark Lord, she could do the same thing. Although she knew that Harry was the only hope for the Wizarding world, and that he was merely trying to keep her safe (keep her _alive…_), but it still irked her tremendously when she was left behind.

As she aged, the Weasley pride never faded, but merely became less petty. She had married Harry Potter, not for his name but for the man he had become. She had become a famous Quidditch player, her abilities raved about. She wrote a column for the _Daily Prophet_.

But most important of all, she bore the man she loved three beautiful, healthy children that were the sunshine in her life.

And so it was with the infamous Weasley pride glowing and a radiant smile that she watched Lily, her youngest, board the Hogwarts Express as nearly every Weasley had done.


End file.
